


Guns & Roses

by LunaRS



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crazy!Meg, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Humor, Lawyer Sam Winchester, Married!Dean, Thief!Castiel, detective!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-27 12:05:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaRS/pseuds/LunaRS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy Novak, business name "Castiel", hasn't stolen anything for years and when he's asked to by the King of the underworld of crime, he declines, but at a great cost. Supernatural AU  Rated T for violence and language. Please Comment!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“I won’t do it, Fergus.” the tone of his husky voice made this statement final, immovable.  
“You can’t keep me here.” he added, studying his surroundings carefully and un-noticeably, his eyes flicking about in search of every possible exit, every action and its outcome, and every person he would have to deal with in order to successfully slip away. There was a bit of a draft in the rusty box of a room, holes dotting the ceiling of the office in the abandoned, and previously unused warehouse; the musty scent of rust and a delectable bouquet of pastries wafted through the chilled air that also tickled his face and made the edges of his trench coat tremble slightly; he could see every puff of air he exhaled hang for a moment in the air before him.

“Jimmy, I’m not going to just let you leave.” the one called Fergus replied in his gruff British accent, sounding just as serious and set in his decision.  
The man in the trench coat, who was called Jimmy, furrowed his brow.  
“No...you really can’t keep me here.” he reiterated. Fergus chuckled, pacing with his hands in the pockets of his black suit.  
“I can try.” he shrugged. The doors behind the trench-coated man burst open and he ran towards Fergus, ignoring the newly arrived men with guns, who also pulled out a gun. Jimmy expertly disarmed Fergus and smacked the pistol into Fergus’ face, darting away when the angry suited man lashed out at him.

Jimmy ran for the desk at the end of the room and once he had climbed on top of it, all the while dodging bullets with pure luck and skill, he picked up the chair and thrust it up and into the rusty ceiling, causing that part of the roofing to crumble. With a quick grin at Fergus, Jimmy swiftly set down the chair, and leapt up off of it, finding a stable place to hold on the roof to pull himself onto.  
And thus he escaped, not without a stray bullet to the shin and the echo of an infuriated voice cursing “bollocks!”


	2. Unemplyed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy Novak gets his injury treated and makes a discovery...

He knocked on the door.

Once.

Twice.

The door opened before he had the chance to knock again.  
“Bloody hell, can’t a guy get any peace?” A British accent poured out of the now open doorway.  
“Balthazar,” the man who had knocked wheezed in a gravelly voice.   
“The hell’d you do to your leg?” the man named Balthazar asked in wonder.   
“I got shot. Help me in.” the injured man said, nearly falling over before Balthazar helped to drag him in.

“What have you gotten yourself into this time, Cassie?” Balthazar questioned under his breath as he pulled the stumbling trench-coated man into his humble abode.  
The living room was dotted with...well, nothing. Actually, for a compactly little apartment, it was very clean; that was just his personality; he could turn anything, even a crap apartment, into a place a man with class, he, Balthazar Holt, could be proud of.

“Castiel--”   
“Call me Jimmy right now,” the injured man interrupted, grunting in pain when his leg was jostled after Balthazar laid him down on the sofa, propping his leg up and setting off to gather the supplies he needed to safely extract the bullet from Jimmy’s shin.   
“My, now we’re calling you by your real name? I wonder just how much trouble you got yourself into,” Balthazar mumbled to himself, setting out his medical tools. “Who shot you?”

“It was one of Crowley’s men,” Jimmy replied, grimacing when the blond man set to work on his shin.  
“Ah, and what did you say to invoke the wrath of the Boss?” Balthazar kept up the conversation; it helped him both to concentrate and to satiate his curiosity.  
“He’s not my Boss anymore, Balthazar,” Jimmy groaned. 

Fergus Mcleod, aka “Crowley” as those of the Underworld of crime called him, was the King of all crimes. Balthazar, real name “Harold Holt”, used to be a practicing physician but was of late stationed where any of Crowley’s men or friends could find him and ask for his medical assistance when needed. Castiel, or “Jimmy Novak”--which you, dear readers, know as the man in the trench coat currently having his shin worked on by Balthazar--was formerly known to be a thief, and quite a good one at that, until he had decided to retire without permission of Crowley, which reaped the bullet in his shin.

“Ah, yes. You had gotten it into your thick head that you could just leave our leader’s service,” Balthazar said sarcastically. Jimmy rolled his eyes. “You also had plans to marry, correct?” the physician continued.  
“Y-yes,” Jimmy stuttered through the pain, shutting his eyes tight and clenching his hands into fists.   
“Her name is…?” Balthazar let his voice trail off in a questioning tone. He pulled the bullet out roughly with the tweezers in hand.

Jimmy convulsed in his surprise and cried out, shuddering as sudden waves of pain emanated from his leg.   
“Meg,” Jimmy wheezed his answer. “Don’t be so rough,” he complained.  
“I got the bullet out, didn’t I?” the former-doctor replied with a smile in his blue eyes. “You should be thanking me.” 

“...Thank you, Balthazar,” Jimmy mumbled after his shin was disinfected, sewn shut, and bandaged. He sat up and looked at Balthazar, pulling down his pant leg.  
“Oh, don’t sound so overjoyed, Cassie. It’s embarrassing,” Balthazar said sarcastically. “You’re so serious, Jimmy; sometimes I forget that I’ve ever seen you smile.”

Jimmy stood and limped towards the door before Balthazar called out “Oi, where do you think you’re going?”  
“To visit Meg,” Jimmy replied bluntly. Balthazar rolled his eyes and walked over him, offering him a stabilizing arm.   
“What, and lead the Boss’s men to her? Have you lost all your senses?” the physician asked hypothetically. “No, you’ll stay here--”  
“But Crowley’s men may have already reached her,” Jimmy interrupted worriedly.  
“Then stay one night. You can leave in the morning, but it wouldn’t do to get that injury infected before you had time to see your precious Meg.” The tone in Balthazar’s voice informed Jimmy that his diagnosis of the situation was final and there would be nothing left to argue about. Jimmy sighed and nodded.

\--------

3:57 am.  
Jimmy, with silent expertise, slipped on his suit jacket, blue tie, and trench coat, and slowly limped towards the door of the apartment. He slipped his black shoes on and gingerly opened the door. Jimmy didn’t want to worry his friend, but he couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to Meg. To leave now and visit her, to make sure she was safe, was the only sufficient option for him.

Grimacing when the door creaked slightly, Jimmy limped off swiftly into the night.  
Balthazar sighed when he heard his front door close, almost inaudibly.  
“If you fuck up your bloody shin, Castiel, I’m not fixing it again,” he mumbled before wearily letting sleep overtake his senses once again.

\--------

Jimmy Novak tried to make his limp less noticeable, to minimize the strange stares he was receiving, as he walked, exhausted, down the side of the road. He stared, with intense blue eyes, straight ahead with intensity, at the nearing shape of a huge flat-roofed hospital building--a psychiatric facility to be exact.   
Worry only made the pain more bearable and encouraged the retired thief to walk faster.

Jimmy did not regret refusing Crowley’s orders, but he couldn’t help but imagine every possibility of every outcome of the decisions he could have made, but didn’t.  
After another painstaking hour of adjusted limping, Jimmy was finally standing, panting, in front of the psychiatric facility. His bullet wound had since started bleeding again but hardly any of the blood had managed to seep through his pants.

He looked at his watch.  
11:48 am. Jimmy had been walking for approximately eight hours towards his destination; he didn’t take a taxi or hitch a ride because he didn’t want to risk possibly being picked up by anyone who would recognize him. 

Though exhaustion weighed down heavily upon his eyelids, Jimmy’s mere willpower was enough to keep him awake and active. He treaded on his injured leg and aching feet with a trained composure; if no one was told of his pain, they would never guess something ailed him; the bullet wound wasn’t very deep either, which lessened the pain.

Jimmy made his way to an employee side door and picked the lock quickly, slipping in while no one was around. Once inside what appeared to be a closet, he shrugged off his trench coat and suit jacket and replaced them with a white doctor’s coat, fixing a nametag that said “Manson” to the coat before leaving the closet into the hospital.

He navigated the hallways swiftly, acting the part of a very busy physician very well, while remaining exceedingly aware of his surroundings so that, if the need presented itself, he would have no trouble in evading people, either enemy or unwanted friend, and escape with the good chance of losing any followers that he might attract. 

Jimmy hummed a tuneless melody and now walked at a slightly jerky saunter until he reached his destination. Room 236C.  
He took a quick look around and punched in the code he had memorized, anticipation burbling in his stomach as he walked into the room and closed the door behind him, listening intently until he heard the click of it locking. 

“Meg,” he said softly to the dark-haired woman who sat in a white jumpsuit on a bed, facing the window with an awed look on her face. She turned slowly and looked at Jimmy who walked up to her and gently led her to the closet and pulled her in, closing the door and turning on the light.   
“Who are you? Am I still dreaming?” Meg asked in a drowsy voice that pulled at his heart, stirring both emotions of slight disappointment and also utter adoration. He kissed her forehead and a small smile grew in the corners of her mouth.  
“Hello, Clarence,” she said in that very faint drawl of hers. Jimmy grinned at his nickname and moved a strand of hair from her rounded face; she called him Clarence because she was constantly bombarded with memories of the movie: “It’s a Wonderful Life”, which seemed to be comforting to her; he liked that nickname, nevertheless.  
“Hello, Meg,” he greeted in return.

Meg Masters, Jimmy’s fiance, had been diagnosed with Derealisation Disorder, wherein the one diagnosed cannot tell the difference between reality and fantasy, and Posttraumatic Stress Disorder: she had achieved these mental instabilities when her Mother and Father were murdered, and her little sister committed suicide a few weeks later. The doctors said that Meg was doing well in her recovery, but excitement was definitely something that was highly encouraged to be kept away from her; Jimmy wanted to make sure that any and every extreme excitement was kept far away from the love of his life so that she may recover.  
“How are you feeling?” Jimmy asked softly, caressing her cheek with his thumb. She leisurely slid her arms around him, that vague smile still plastered on her beautiful face.   
“I like the roughness of your voice. It makes me feel all tingly,” Meg commented dreamily in a bit of a giggle.  
“I like your voice, too,” Jimmy replied. He didn’t have much time until her actual doctor would come by to check on her.  
“Who have you seen today?” he asked.  
“I see you, Clarence,” she said.  
“Did you see anyone new today?” he persisted, still smiling. He adored her. “Someone you don’t remember ever seeing?”  
“I dreamed there was a man with scars on his face. I don’t know what he wanted, but he liked to look at me,” Meg slurred slightly. “Then I woke up, at least I think I did...Am I awake now?” she asked, her smile turning into an adorable frown of confusion, her brow furrowing over her big brown eyes.

“Yes, you’re awake.” Jimmy wore his smile now just for show, to ensure that Meg wouldn’t worry. The man she had just described was one of Crowley’s men: Ariss.  
“What was the man wearing?” he asked, inching closer to the door of the closet.   
“I thought I was dreaming…” Meg continued to herself, looking around with an absent gaze in her eyes.   
“Meg, I need you to remember what he was wearing,” Jimmy nudged her gently until she was sort of focusing again.  
“You’re cute…” her voice trailed off again and she bit her bottom lip. Jimmy swallowed and blushed under her gaze. “He wore a uniform and he had a gun...I think it was a gun…” she finally answered.

All kinds of possibilities popped into his head, and as he sorted through them, “security guard” stuck the longest. So Ariss was posing as a Security guard. Not good.   
Jimmy’s time was up. Though it pained him to leave her, he couldn’t risk being caught and giving her more trauma to deal with.

Jimmy opened the closet door just a crack and peeked out. No one was there and he didn’t see anyone out in the hall through the window of the other door.  
He led Meg out of the closet and helped her into her bed, where she mumbled “goodbye, Angel”, before he placed a last adoring kiss on her temple and he left the room.

He walked casually down the halls towards the closet where his coats were stashed, all the while getting a good look at the security guards he passed by; Jimmy was, by now, wearing an air ventilating mask to make sure Ariss wouldn’t find him. But the dilemma at hand was that every security guard he passed looked familiar. Every security guard was one of Crowley’s men. Anxiety bit at his stomach.  
It was then that Jimmy Novak made the decision to take on one last job of thievery, the most important job in his life so far: he was going to steal Meg Masters away from the facility.


	3. Caught

Jimmy awoke, groggily, and stared up at the ceiling of the crap Motel room he’d rented for the night. For a little while, he just laid there, thinking, planning; he considered every option he had.  
There was a window in her room, a closet, and not much else. He could construct an escape route through the closet wall, leading them into the room next door where they could slip away if some diversion was made, to distract the “security guards.” No, that would take far too long to put together. Something more Immediate had to happen.  
His mind drifted back to the window but he wasn’t sure about it.

Jimmy threw off his covers and leapt out of bed. Garbing himself in a suit, he slipped on his shoes and trench coat and left the Motel, returning the keys first.  
Almost mechanically--for it was almost second nature for him--Jimmy Novak calmly and efficiently broke into a car, very quickly, and after successfully hotwiring it, the drove to the facility, parking in the west parking lot, where the staff spaces were reserved.

He got out of the car and began to walk quickly around the building, studying the outside thoroughly. Once he found Meg’s window, the fourth from the bottom right in the eastern wing--it was about fifty feet up--his heart sank. From her window there was only a straight drop, no pipes or anything useful near enough to her window to aid in his escape with her. Jimmy rubbed his face, frustrated.  
‘Oh, if only I could fly...’ he thought wistfully. ‘Everything would be so much easier.’   
He limped to the staff side door, the one he’d found before, and to his luck, found the same name tag and doctor’s coat from before.  
Walking with a perfectly faked sense of medical purpose down the halls, Jimmy memorized, to the best of his ability, every door and where it lead, every possible escape route.  
He didn’t have much time; he knew he had to act fast.

Running the risk of Ariss recognizing him, Jimmy Novak roamed the facility without the air filter mask; the “security guards” he saw, Crowley’s men, had only ever heard of him, Castiel: the Angel-winged thief, and had never actually seen him before; they would never guess that he was walking among them now, a traitor to their King, feigning to be a doctor “just to save his love”; as if that were a menial task.

Jimmy quickened his limping pace when he realized that Crowley’s men were concentrated near Meg’s room. He was afraid that they had already taken her, or done something worse.  
He almost burst into her room, seeing to guards around, to find her laying calmly on her bed, talking to the ceiling.

“Hello, Meg.” Jimmy began, his voice husky with the worry he’d attempted to hide.  
Meg turned her head and smiled serenely.  
“Hello, Clarence. You’re pretending to be my doctor again.” She commented.  
“Yes. Has anyone tried to take you out of your room?” Jimmy asked in a hushed tone, his blue eyes flicking periodically towards both the window in the door and the window by her bed.

“Nope.” Meg answered bluntly. Her face grew stern and a trace of fear could be seen in her face.  
“Is something wrong?” her voice was small and trembling. Jimmy sat down on the bed next to her and held her shaking body, rubbing her back in a soothing way.  
“No, no, everything’s alright.” he said, trying to quell her fears.

She relaxed against him as he began to hum a slow tune.  
“Everything will be o…” his voice trailed off when he looked out the window in the door to see Ariss staring directly at him, a cruel grin on his pale face under the shadow of dusty blond hair.  
“...shit.” Jimmy cursed under his breath.  
“Everything will be ‘oh shit’?” Meg repeated questioningly, looking up at her fiance with a confused expression.

Jimmy stood and positioned himself, protectively, in front of Meg as the door opened and a very tall man in a suit walked in with Ariss.  
The tall man pointed at Jimmy and Jimmy suddenly realized who the man was.  
‘Sam Winchester: lawyer.’ He thought. Adrenaline shot through his veins and his heart sank. ‘Great. Now he’s seen my face.’ the thought, annoyed.

“You’re Castiel! The thief!” Sam Winchester exclaimed. Suddenly a voice rose up “get ‘im!” and the room was swarmed with Crowley’s security guards. Plans and tactics flew through the former thief’s mind, almost too fast for him to process.  
He was going to have to take a huge risk; one thing he did know was that Crowley’s men must have been told to catch him alive, else he’d already be dead and Meg would be too--he shuddered at the thought--therefore, if he did something that would put him in danger, the “security guards” would be forced to make sure he stayed alive. Jimmy looked over the men, seeing their eyes filled with determination to do their jobs, and also filled with awe at the sight of Crowley’s favorite thief; he didn’t know he was so popular.

Castiel jumped up on the bed and thrust himself against the window, shattering the glass and falling out until a jolt of pain seared through his unwounded leg. Sam Winchester had caught hold of his ankle before he’d fallen to his probable death.   
All was going according to plan, so far.  
Castiel wiggled violently, bearing the pain he was creating for himself.

“Do you want me to drop you?! Are you crazy?!” Sam groaned, trying to pull the thief back in through the window--this was quite the morbidly comical sight for bystanders in the parking lot.  
With a hefty twist of his body, Castiel kicked the lawyer in the jaw with his injured, and now bleeding, leg, unbalancing Sam and causing him to fall out of the window as well.

Jimmy smiled as one-by-one, each of Crowley’s men grabbed onto the heels and ankles of the other as the momentum of Castiel and Sam’s descent pulled each of them out of the window, like a game of monkeys in a barrel-gone-human, until Castiel’s falling pace slowed--for the men had grown more competent and stopped themselves from falling out of the window as well--and his hands rested on the ground. With a last painful kick to the lawyer’s ear, Sam let go of Jimmy’s leg and the former thief walked a few paces on his hands, over shattered glass, and then, upon setting his feet on the ground, hurriedly limped, with a grimace of agony, off towards the car he’d stolen.

Listening with unhidden glee to the cries and grunts of Crowley’s men as they struggled and strained their way either back in through the window or a safe fall to the asphalt below, Castiel turned the corner, with an inward apology to Meg, he was met by the pale, still-smiling, face of Ariss.  
Jimmy slowed to a stop, panting hard. His body ached all over and his leg and glass-torn palms throbbed in pain.

“Nowhere else run, Castiel.” Ariss said in a long drawn out Texan drawl; only Crowley and Balthazar knew Castiel’s real name.   
Jimmy sat in the middle of the road, then laid on his back in utter resignation.  
“Fine. You got me.” he muttered, closing his tired eyes.

Ariss laughed, a very rich and bellowing laugh, and walked over to his former superior to inject something into Jimmy’s blood.  
His world went black.

\--------

Jimmy groaned, coming back to consciousness..  
Without opening his eyes, he knew he was sitting in a chair, tied to it of course, and he was located in a small room, based on the echo of his groan; the room smelled musty.  
The sound of a door creaking open urged him to open his eyes.

Crowley walked in, closing the door behind him.  
Castiel rolled his eyes and groaned again.  
“Morning, Castiel.” Crowley started, gruffly.  
“What do you want, Crowley?” Jimmy asked impatiently.  
“I must say, I am very impressed with your little escape plan earlier at the psychiatric facility.” Crowley continued leisurely.

The door opened and in walked Balthazar, carrying his medical supplies. His face lit up when he saw Jimmy.  
“Cassie!” he greeted jovially.

“Just tell me what you want.” Castiel ignored the doctor momentarily.  
“Bloody well nice to see you too.” Balthazar grumbled, rummaging through his things for what he needed. He began examining Jimmy.

“I want to make a deal.” Crowley began again.  
“I’m not interested.” Jimmy said stubbornly, quickly assessing the room; based on the size of the shadows in the room, he determined that it was nighttime and he’d been knocked out for hours.  
“Fucked up your leg…” Balthazar commented.  
“Just hear me out.” Crowley pushed.  
“Bloody Hell, your hands…what’d you do, walk over glass on your hands?” the physician mumbled. “Yes.” Jimmy replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “...Of course you did.” Balthazar rolled his eyes as he began bandaging the tattered hands. Castiel winced. “Don’t be such a wuss.” Balthazar added.

“I want you to work for me again. Just one last job and then you’re free to go.” the Boss paced, hands shoved in the pant pockets of his black suit.  
“I said no before and I haven’t changed my mind.” Castiel said. “You’re lying.”  
“That may very well be true,” Crowley admitted.  
“How many fucking times must I sew up your bloody leg?” the doctor cursed under his breath.

“But it’s not like you have any real choice. Accept my proposition or your fiance, Meg, will take a vacation to Hell.” Crowley concluded.  
Jimmy heaved a heavy and shaky sigh, closing his eyes for a moment.  
“No.” he practically growled, flicking his eyes open. Crowley rolled his eyes and then looked at Castiel in confusion.  
“Not quite the answer I was hoping for. All you’ve managed to do is get your girlfriend killed.” Crowley said but his captive wasn’t listening; Castiel was listening for any outside sounds. There. He knew where he was: one of Crowley’s abandoned safehouses, the one nearest to the hospital.

Without a second thought, and only after Balthazar had finished stitching up his shin again, Castiel lunged forward and swung the chair into Crowley, destroying it in its rotting antique state, and thus causing his bonds to fall on the floor. With a grunt of discomfort, Castiel whipped around and grabbed the gun which was tucked in the back of the physician’s pants and aimed the gun at the two of them.

“Oh, okay.” Balthazar shrugged sarcastically, raising his hands in the air in immediate surrender.  
Crowley looked calm, if only slightly annoyed. “Bollocks.” he muttered, raising his hands slowly.  
“Let me out.” Castiel commanded.  
“Let ‘im out!” Crowley called towards the door.  
With a last glance at Balthazar, Jimmy hurried out of the abandoned safe house, tucking the gun away.

\--------

Jimmy made it safely away from Crowley and his men, stealing a car from a nearby lot and driving to the facility. His cell phone, which had acquired a cracked screen, pinged and he pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the newly received icon that informed him that he’d just received a text. Jimmy had a fairly simple phone but he still had trouble understanding how to use the damn thing. After pressing a few buttons, he finally opened the text and discovered that it was from Balthazar.

“Crowley sent Ariss and Alistair to get Meg. Get there first.” -Balthy

Castiel felt panic rise inside of him and he drove faster.

\--------

Bursting through the staff entrance again, and acquiring his suit jacket and trench coat--both were gifts from Meg, on Christmas years ago--Jimmy less than silently pushed open an air vent in the ceiling and climbed in, stealthily sliding his way towards Meg’s room.  
‘Last chance, Jimmy.’ He thought to himself.

Finally, for he had memorized the facility inside and out, he found Meg’s room and gingerly peeked his head in to see that Meg was alone and without being sure of his and her safety, he wearily dropped into the room, after opening the vent. He was exhausted but he needed to save Meg; that alone made him forget the pain racking through his body.

“Y-You jumped th-through the win-window!” Meg exclaimed, surprised by his sudden appearance.  
Castiel wondered why she was still in her room, though all the glass had been cleaned out of her room and her window boxed up; why didn’t the doctors mover her somewhere safe? The security guards probably wouldn’t permit them to, he concluded.

“I’m okay,” he stepped forward and placed a quick kiss on Meg’s lips. She flashed him a sultry smile and Castiel blushed; the moonlight that managed to peek through the uncovered parts of the window casted a hallowing glow on her beautiful face. ‘So beautiful.’ Jimmy thought.   
“I made a new friend, Clarence.” she said abruptly, dismissing the past events as only a dream.  
“What?” Jimmy grew concerned. “Who?”  
“He said his name was Dean, at least that’s what I think he--”  
“Where?” Jimmy interrupted, looking around frantically. Just then the door opened and Ariss and Alistair walked in and behind them stood a familiar looking man, as well as the tall lawyer from before.

“No…” Jimmy whispered, feeling tired and helpless. He let go of Meg and grunted as he jumped at the bed, leapt off of it, and started to pull himself into the air vent before someone gave a hard tug to his stitched up leg. Jimmy cried out and his muscles gave and he landed on his feet, only to be thrown against the wall.

“Get the girl outta here!” the man holding Jimmy still called over his shoulder.  
“Not...with...them. Don’t trust..them…” Castiel wheezed, ready to collapse. He opened his eyes--they had been shut because of the pain--and his eyes rested on the man who had thwarted his rescue mission.  
Detective Inspector Dean Winchester: the man who had so many times come so close to catching Castiel but had never succeeded until now.  
“Meg…” Jimmy panted as Ariss and Alistair pulled his fiance out of the room.  
“Bastard.” he growled at the detective.  
“Finally caught you, Castiel.” Dean said, a fierce triumph in his green eyes.

“You’re coming with me.” he said, turning Castiel around roughly, cuffing him.  
All Castiel could do was worry and panic, feeling helpless and like a failure. He’d been caught, and Meg too.  
‘What will they do to Meg?!’


	4. Help Me

Red and blue lights flashed hypnotically around Jimmy as he was escorted out of the police car and into the Kansas State Police Department building by Detective Inspector Dean Winchester himself.   
Still exhausted and injured, Jimmy stumbled with every step. Once inside, the thief was thrown, almost literally, into an interrogation room. Sitting down, and closing his eyes, Jimmy braced himself for questioning.  
He felt tired, disappointed, and pathetic for failing to save Meg.  
He heard the interrogation room door open.  
“Get a doc in here,” Dean ordered in a serious tone before closing the door. Jimmy relaxed; at least the detective was being civil. 

"You gonna tell me your name, or you gonna play hard to get?" Dean said.  
Jimmy opened one eye at him, but stayed silent.  
“So, Castiel, what were you doing in the Lawrence psychiatric facility?” Dean questioned, tapping his fingers impatiently on the metal table in front of him.  
Jimmy closed his open eye and remained perfectly still. He almost jumped at the door opening; he was already beginning to fall asleep.  
“Heya chief,” a cheerful voice chimed. “Who ya need me to fix up?” he asked, looking at Jimmy.   
The man was shorter, a lollipop in his mouth, he had slicked back golden brown hair, and smiling whiskey-colored eyes. Jimmy took certain care in the way he acted around this man; he was unsure if the doctor remembered him. The doctor looked at him in a peculiar way before resuming his previous jolly countenance.

“This is Dr. Gabriel Marcus,” Dean introduced the doctor who’d already begun to patch the battered prisoner up.  
“He’s gotta get some sleep before you interrogate him; he can barely--” Dr. Marcus looked at Jimmy, whose eyes had closed wearily again. “He can’t keep his eyes open.”  
“...Fine. We’ll talk tomorrow,” the last few words were directed towards the thief, and with that the detective left in a huff, leaving Jimmy to be fixed.

No words were spoken until the doctor finished up, escorted Jimmy to his cell for the night, and just as he turned to leave, Jimmy opened his eyes, not daring to get out of bed.  
“Gabriel,” he called in a familiar tone.  
Gabriel stopped at his name and turned around, anxiously twirling his lollipop in his mouth.  
"Ah, yeah?" He answered a bit hesitantly.  
"Do you remember me at all?" Jimmy asked patiently.  
A weak smile from Gabriel, and Jimmy knew he hadn’t forgotten.  
“...You must be like, twenty or something; how long has it been?” Gabriel asked, at a loss for words and looking sheepish.  
“Ten years. I’m twenty-five,” came Jimmy’s gruff reply.

“Gee, James I’m really--”  
“I forgive you.” Jimmy interrupted him. “Mother did too, after a while.”  
Silence.  
“Heh, I always thought I’d be the one in prison,” Gabriel commented. Jimmy smiled.  
“I tried to save my fiance and ended up here,” he explained. Gabriel blinked.  
“Is that all…” he mumbled. 

“...Why did you leave?” Jimmy asked a moment later.  
“I couldn’t stand all the fighting, Michael and Raphael and mom...I had to get out,” Gabriel explained. “What happened to you, the ‘greatest thief that ever lived’?”  
Jimmy’s smile disappeared. “I’ll tell you when I’m out of prison,” he said passively.

“...You know, I could lose my job for this,” Gabriel said in a hushed tone, scribbling something down on a notepad; they were both cautious of the guards who were standing outside.  
“But, I noticed that they got new security cameras for the interrogation rooms. 5.0 Megapixels. And here,” he walked over and handed Jimmy a piece of paper with writing on it. Jimmy opened his eyes and looked at his brother. “When you get out, swing by,” he mouthed. “Anyhow, good night. Get some rest.”   
And with that, Gabriel left. Jimmy relaxed, a slight grin spreading on his face; and seeing his brother in such a stable situation!  
Further, he now had a plan. He closed his eyes again and folded the paper, tucking it into the knot of his tie before he fell asleep.

\--------

“What’s your name?” Dean questioned, looking just as fierce as he had the night before.  
Jimmy ached all over, but he’d gotten a good night’s sleep. He studied the detective’s face and saw hardness, a face that had seen horrors; but what horrors, he didn’t know. Jimmy’s hands were handcuffed behind his back and they clinked every once in a while.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice cut through Jimmy’s thoughts.  
“What?”  
“What’s your name?” the inspector asked again, already losing his patience.  
“Castiel,” the thief answered bluntly.  
“No, what’s your real name?”  
“You can call me Cas,” Jimmy continued, pretending not to hear.

“Fine, Cas. Now, tell me what you were doing at the Lawrence Psychiatric Facility,” Dean prodded, giving up on his first question.  
“Saving my fiance.”  
“Saving the patient? From who?”  
“Crowley’s men.”  
“Who’s Crowley?”  
“My former boss.”  
“You’ve only ever worked for the king of underworld crime--”  
“Exactly.”

Dean paused a moment to think. Jimmy prepared himself for the two options that lay before him, two plans: one for escape, and one to further his chance of saving Meg.

“This Crowley guy is the new king?” Dean asked, standing from his chair and looking down at Jimmy.  
“Yes,” the thief answered. His handcuffs were chafing his wrists, but he’d almost gotten them off.  
“Let me get this straight: I caught the son of a bitch who called himself the ‘king of the underworld’, and you’re saying that this Crowley guy has taken over?”  
“Precisely.”  
“Awesome. What’s his real name?”  
Jimmy remained in a pensive silence, studying the security camera in the corner of the ceiling that was pointed at him.

“Hey, Cas, stay focused!” Dean pulled him back to reality once again. “I have the grounds to put you away for a long time and unless you cooperate--”  
“I have a lot of the information you seek and I am even willing to offer myself up wholly if you help me save my fiance. I only want her safety; after that is ensured, you’ll get what you want,” Jimmy interrupted abruptly, looking dead on into the detective’s eyes.  
“You tryna bribe me?” Dean inquired, remaining quite calm.  
“I don’t have any money to bribe you with,” Jimmy answered bluntly. “I’m negotiating.”   
“Well, sorry, pal, but no can do. There’s no way I’m gonna let you go so you can save your so-called ‘fiance’ from the king of the underworld,” Dean said just as bluntly.  
A knock on the door called the inspector’s attention and Jimmy now knew his plan of action. He was ready. As soon as Dean left the room, Jimmy focused on the security camera. His hands by now were out of the cuffs and all he had left to do was disarm the security camera and get out quickly.  
He started whistling, quietly at first; he lifted his chin and looked at the security camera, his whistle rising in tone until it was impossibly high pitched and quiet.  
With his utmost concentration, Jimmy watched and whistled at the camera until...there! The security camera flickered. 

Slowly his whistle grew louder, staying at its high frequency, almost unwavering, until the security camera blinked and was finally disarmed, all its lights shutting off; and to Jimmy’s surprise, a moment later, while he still whistled to make sure the camera was broken, the mirror-window suddenly cracked! Jimmy’s eyes widened and a new plan entered his mind, and he thought it better than his previous plan, so he kept whistling; who knew the mirror-window was so thin?

The sound of people running about and barking orders against his attempt at escape entered the interrogation room as the door opened just after the crack in the glass became massive.  
At that moment, Dean--who had opened the door--pulled out his gun, shouting, “stop it, Cas!” just as Jimmy slipped under the metal table and attempted to push the table onto the detective until he discovered that it was bolted to the floor. He snatched the handcuffs off the floor where he’d dropped them when he’d taken them off and used the legs of the table to push off of and propel himself out from under it towards Dean before he flung the handcuffs into the detective’s face. He scrambled to his feet to strike Dean across the cheek, causing him to drop his gun and fall back in his surprise.

Jimmy scooped up the gun and fired a shot at the crack in the mirror-window, causing the glass to shatter. He dropped the gun and leapt through the shards, obtaining minor lacerations on his face and and hands as he did so, his ears ringing from the bullet shot.

With adrenaline-induced speed, the thief threw open doors and kicked them closed behind him, frantically shutting off every light he could on his way until he found a main power switch and used a chair to bash it to pieces in the time he had before the pursuing officers caught up with him.

Castiel was now running in darkness though the windowless rooms, his eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness as he struggled to remain as quiet as possible until he found the stairwell.  
With much likeness to a squirrel, Jimmy leapt from one railing to the railing just below, once more to the ground floor and dashed through the door and into the light of the lobby.

The officers in the lobby did not have the time to comprehend who was running through, leaping over desks and around people with his face covered; the following officers came panting down the stairs, lead by Dean Winchester one minute later; one minute too late, for Castiel the thief was nowhere to be seen.


	5. "Believe Me!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy escapes, only to go back with a plan...

Officers searched here and there; the whole of the police department began to search all over Lawrence, Kansas, but there was no sign of Castiel.  
He’d only escaped about thirty minutes ago, so it was thought that he couldn’t have gotten far, which would be correct; in fact, the thief had only been outside for a total of two minutes before re-entering the building without the notice of the police.  
While the officers had charged out of the building, Castiel had climbed on the outside railing, leapt onto a bit of the wall that was jutting out, found a window that he could open from the outside--to his luck, the room was empty--and had made his way to the men’s locker room, securing a uniform for himself.

Stashing his suit and trenchcoat in a backpack once he had dressed himself in a uniform, he proceeded to walk calmly out of the building, making sure that no one and nothing saw his face from under his police cap.  
Luck still favoring him, he slipped into a police car that had been left running and drove off, pulling the paper out of his tie that he’d left on, that Gabriel had written his address on.

\--------

“Gabriel,” Jimmy started, walking through the door of the expensive-looking house of his brother, already beginning to change out of the police uniform and back into his own clothes. He was still exhausted, and after getting his tattered dress pants and white shirt back on, he found Gabriel’s study and practically threw himself down on the sofa.

“You’re all over the news, lil’ bro.” Gabriel walked into the room, sucking on a lollipop. “Hey, get all your crap off my floor!” he said when he saw the clothes.  
“I’m too tired,” Jimmy mumbled, shifting slightly on the sofa so that he was lying on his stomach.

“Yeah, I bet. I wasn’t expecting you ta show up so soon. How long have you been doing this?” Gabriel asked, picking the uniform up as he talked and throwing it off to the side. He then kneeled by the sofa that his brother was laying on and started to check him for injuries and such. “So, what’s the dame’s name?” Gabriel started, checking Jimmy’s temperature.

Jimmy lifted his head and squinted his eyes at Gabriel with confusion.  
“What?”  
“Your fiance,” Gabriel explained, rolling his eyes; his brother was a lot more clueless than he thought he’d be.  
“Meg Masters. She’s…” Jimmy rolled over onto his back. “She’s lovely, and beautiful. I like her voice and…” his voice trailed off as he imagined her there, recovered and rescued from Crowley.  
“Yeah, yeah, you’re lovestruck. I’m sure she’s a nice girl,” Gabriel spoke impatiently, crunching on his candy.

“Tell me about mom. How’re Raphael and Michael?” he asked with anticipation. Jimmy sat up, looking downcast and thoughtful. A harrowed look came across his face, and he stared past Gabriel into the distance as images and memories flooded his mind.  
“...They’re...all dead,” he said quietly. Gabriel opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out.

“I came home from school ten years ago, and when I walked in the door, Mother had been raped to death and Raphael had been shot in the head; but Michael had survived by hiding in the rafters in the attic. When I finally found him, we tried to run to the police, but the man who had killed mother and Raphael was still there, and he shot Michael to death. I don’t know why he didn’t kill me, but he looked at me for a moment and then said, “the name’s Lucifer.” I asked him why he killed everyone, and he said, “I have a grudge against your old man.” There was another man there with him, wearing a black suit, who looked more menacing than the man called Lucifer.”  
“...G-go on.” Gabriel was in shock.

“I was taken with them, and I found that Lucifer and his assistant, a black market salesman named Crowley, had killed or captured all the children in our neighborhood; even Alfie was taken.  
They trained some of us to kill, some in the making of illegal narcotics, some under Crowley’s command in black market sales, and others, like me, in thievery. After our three year long training, we were instructed never to use our real names. I was called Castiel, Alfie was Samandriel, and even Sidney was called Naomi.” Jimmy thought for a moment. “I don’t mean to ruin your good life by telling you this--”  
“Fuck my good life!” Gabriel exclaimed. “I need to know what happened to you. You’re my little brother, apparently the only one I have left and I ran away instead of protecting you!” he said, quieter.  
“Nobody blames you,” Jimmy said.  
“Go on. How’d you get away?”

“I didn’t. Well, not for years. I did my best to do just as I was told, even though I didn’t want to. I became an excellent thief, but refused to kill anyone; Sidn--I mean Naomi--saw the lack of blood on my hands as a problem. A year later, Samandriel tried to inform the police of Lucifer’s position, but he was caught by Naomi, who tortured him and then ordered me to kill him for treason. I didn’t want to shoot him and was preparing to shoot myself before Samandriel smiled at me and told it that it was okay, that I should kill him and not myself; he said it wasn’t worth both of us dying over…so I shot him. The only blood on my hands was Samandriel’s. His tip to the police got through and while Crowley and most of the adults got away, Lucifer was captured. I was snatched by Crowley, and the officers killed most of the other children, the ones that fought them. After working for Crowley for a few years I met Meg and I decided to leave. Now Crowley’s after me, and also D.I. Dean Winchester.”

Gabriel let out a long breath.  
“What a life.” Tears were in his whiskey-colored eyes, but none of them were allowed to fall.  
“I think I turned out alright.” Jimmy laughed coldly. The brothers sat in silence for a moment.  
Ding-dong! the doorbell rang. Gabriel stood abruptly.  
“Hide, it’s probably the cops,” he instructed and Jimmy, scooping up his trench coat, shoes, and suit coat, scampered up the stairs and stealthily climbed out of a window.

“Hello, Dr. Marcus…” the officer’s voice faded from Jimmy’s ears as he carefully slipped the remainder of his clothes on and made his way to the chimney.   
He slipped in and held himself in there by keeping his fingers gripping the bricks at the top and letting his body dangle.

He was there for ten minutes, his limbs aching like the Dickens, and then he heard the police car doors shut and their engines as they drove off. Shaking, Jimmy hefted himself out and made his way back in through the window.  
“They’ve gone," Gabriel's voice called up the stairs.  
"Where'd you go?" he asked as Jimmy walked down the stairs.  
"The chimney. I have to ask you a favor," Jimmy said, thinking quickly.  
"Yeah?" Gabriel awaited an answer.  
"What do you know about tranquilizers?"

\--------

After a very good night's sleep, Jimmy gathered the things he'd had Gabriel get for him and left, telling his disconcerted brother not to worry and that when everything was resolved, he’d bring Meg to visit. And thus he left his older brother to think on all the disturbing things that he’d just been told the day before.

\--------

Jimmy, having left the stolen car a few blocks away, walked swiftly up to the Lawrence Kansas Police Department, his hands shoved into his trench coat pockets, his right hand gripping a weapon, and his left feeling around the projectiles he was going to use, careful not to prick his fingers.  
He pulled out the gun and shot an officer in the chest with a small tranquilizer dart. The officer fell over and Jimmy quickly reloaded his dart gun still walking the same pace as before.  
Officer after officer went down with every dart he shot. Eventually Jimmy had to run through the chaos he’d created, dodging bullets in the halls, and immobilizing every man and woman who came at him until finally he arrived at Dean Winchester’s office. He flung the door open, shot the officer informing the detective of the source of the ruckus, and then threw down the gun and ran to Dean and grabbed his shoulders forcefully.

“What the--”  
“Listen to me, Detective,” Jimmy interrupted sternly, his voice only getting huskier with his anger, desperate to make his wish known and properly understood. “What I said about my fiance is true!” he bellowed. “I am willing to give you names, dates, and other information about myself and the people I’ve worked with and for! I need to find her before they kill her! Believe me!”   
The Inspector remained silent for a moment, looking as if he were having an inward monologue with himself.  
“I can’t just let you go waltzing around on your own, Cas!” Dean burst out suddenly.  
“I know that! I’m asking you to help me; you’ll get me and the information you want, and I’ll get the safety of my fiance.”  
Dean swatted Castiel’s hands from his shoulders.  
“If you come peacefully, I’ll see what I can do.” Castiel’s heart leapt within him. “I’ll have to talk with the Director,” Dean finally said.  
Immediately, Jimmy heaved a sigh of relief and turned around, extending his wrists to willingly be cuffed, to which Dean kindly complied. 

“Hey, uh, how long are the officers you shot gonna be under?” the Detective asked curiously.  
“...About six hours.”

\--------

After a long week of waiting and worrying in prison, talking with Gabriel as a doctor and patient--his bullet wound still bled a bit--finally Dean walked to Jimmy’s cell, telling him that the contract of temporary release was for six months.  
‘Six months to find Meg,’ Jimmy thought to himself while he changed out of the orange jumper and into his suit.   
“The deal is,” Dean began, “I’ll ask for info as I please, and you gotta tell me.”  
Jimmy grunted his understanding and finished tying his shoes.  
“So, let’s start with your name,” Dean continued.

“James Novak. Continue only to call me Castiel when we are not on the streets, unless you want us both to get killed. Only Crowley knows my real name,” he answered, turning to face the Detective.  
“Woah, calm down,” Dean said.

“Where am I supposed to reside for these six months?”  
“The Director put you fully in my charge, so tonight, you’ll have to stay at my house,” Dean explained begrudgingly, “then we’ll have to figure things out from tomorrow.”  
Jimmy nodded.  
“Have to have a fucking criminal in my fucking house around my fucking wife and kid…” Dean muttered under his breath as they walked out to his car. Every officer they passed sent nasty glares Jimmy’s way, hating him for everything he had put them through thus far; Jimmy returned their glances with a blank stare, completely unaware of the reasons behind their anger.

‘Interesting day...’ Jimmy thought, getting in the passenger seat.

\--------

When they arrived at Dean’s house, a boy burst out the door and ran for the car, yelling, “dad, dad, dad!” before adding, “WAIT! Who’s that!? Who’s that!?”  
“Woah, woah, woah, slow down!” Dean got out of the car and let the boy, who Jimmy assumed to be his son, jump up and cling onto him. The boy looked to be about seven years old, black hair, the detective’s green eyes, and a brilliant smile.  
Jimmy followed awkwardly after Dean and the kid he was holding, into the house where Mrs. Winchester was waiting.  
“Who is he, dad? Who is he?” the boy asked louder than before. He suddenly gasped and shouted, “CASTIEL!” a huge smile splayed across his face.

“Ben, don’t yell in my ear,” Dean said, setting his child down, along with his briefcase.  
“Uh, Dean,” the woman started, a bit of worry in her voice. “What…?”  
“Wasn’t my idea, Lisa.” Dean stated, placing a small kiss on her lips.  
“Well, Mr. Castiel,”  
“Novak,” Jimmy interrupted; he had no wish for any bad to come to this family.  
“...Novak, um...make yourself at home.” Lisa Winchester tried her best to be civil and hospitable. Jimmy smiled.  
“Thank you,” he said quietly, but remained in the same place, waiting for Dean to tell him what to do.

“Can I talk with you for a moment?” Lisa whispered to her husband. Dean followed her into the kitchen and Jimmy looked down at Ben, who looked inhumanly excited.  
“Hey! You’re the man dad’s been trying to catch? How’d he catch you? What did you do?   
What kind of stuff do you steal? Have you ever killed anyone?”   
Jimmy couldn’t understand how such a small child could say so many things with only one breath.

“Uh…” He couldn’t remember the first question. “What?”  
Dean and Lisa’s voices rose from whispers in the kitchen to quiet arguing.  
Ben proceeded to ask every question again without reducing the speed at which he asked, apologizing for how fast he talked and saying that his dad was always telling him to slow down. 

“So...so how’d dad catch you?” Ben asked again, visibly struggling not to ask his next question just yet.  
They walked into the living room and sat on the sofa. It was only five in the evening, but Jimmy was tired.  
“Your father is a very good detective,” he answered vaguely. He didn’t quite know why he didn’t just tell the boy that his father didn’t catch him.

Before Ben could ask another question, Dean walked out of the kitchen saying “okay, okay,” holding his hands up in defeat.  
“Ben, take my stuff to my office, please,” Dean instructed.  
“Cas, I’ll take you to your room for the night, so bring your...stuff,” he saw that Jimmy had nothing to bring.  
“Of course you don’t have any stuff,” he muttered to himself, leading Jimmy off.  
Anticipation bubbled in Jimmy’s restless mind; he couldn’t help but feel like something horrible was happening to Meg.


	6. Former Boss

/“Samandriel?” Castiel’s voice, smaller sounding, cut through the few echoed sobs in the dark hall he’d just been pushed into. The sobbing continued and Castiel knew it was coming from Samandriel.   
He shakily felt for the light-switch and flipped the lights on.

He saw that he was standing in the hall where none of the other children were allowed to go unless they had direct permission.  
The hall was plain. White walls, flickeringly old lights, and white-tiled floors.

Castiel walked silently towards the sobbing and turned a corner to see Samandriel crying, sitting with his back against the wall.   
Castiel’s stomach lurched in alarm at the sight of his friend.

Samandriel was covered almost completely in his own blood. There were cuts and slices all over his body, dangerously close to some of his vitals. He could see Samandriel’s knuckle bones and a bit of his right shin bone. There was a bullet wound in his ear lobe, his left shin, and his left hand, and a sort of acidic looking foam dripped from his mouth, mixed with his thick crimson blood. 

His sobs came in short gasps, his chest heaving, and the bony figure of Naomi stood looming over him, holding a gun pointed at Samadriel’s head.

She turned her head to look at Castiel and he saw a very familiar and frightening look in her brown eyes. She wasn’t really Naomi; not right now. She had completely become the obedient little psychopath that she had been taught to be.

A smile twisted onto her face.  
“He’s a traitor,” she whispered. Samandriel found the strength to whimper again.

“SHUT UP!” she shrieked at the boy. He held his breath and closed his eyes so as not to make a sound.  
“You don’t have enough blood on your hands, Castiel,” her voice suddenly lowered again, her smile vanishing. She looked like she was only going through the motions, like her actions meant nothing to her; it seemed as if this fifteen year old girl killing a fourteen year old boy was nothing but boring to her.

Castiel was trembling but he knew better than to speak. The blood wouldn’t stop trickling down Samandriel’s chin.  
Naomi stood up straight and held the gun out to Castiel.

“He tried to snitch to the cops,” she continued. “Kill him.”  
Castiel knew the words were coming but they hit him hard in the chest regardless. He couldn’t disobey a direct order from Crowley’s favorite trainee, but his conscience wouldn’t allow him to stay silent.  
“No...I c-can’t. I’m only a thief…” he said slowly and warily.  
Naomi blinked. She looked down at Samandriel and then back at Castiel.

“Kill him.” she insisted, looking slightly desperate. He couldn’t protest any longer.  
Castiel shakily took the gun and Naomi knelt down by Samandriel and whispered something that Castiel couldn’t hear. She looked hesitant before she added something else.  
Samandriel smiled widely, looking terribly pained. “...N-No...W-w-worries…” he heaved. Naomi stood and ran down the hall, looking like what she was, a scared teenage girl, tears beginning to show that she was still human.  
Castiel couldn’t stop shaking and didn’t say a word for a few moments, a few tears falling from his eyes.

“...I can’t do it.” Castiel’s voice came out hoarsely.  
“...It...hurts…” Samandriel said. His smile was gone.  
Castiel’s heart beat hard in his chest.   
“Do...it.”   
Castiel’s brow furrowed and more tears fell. He shakily rose the gun to his own head, his finger trembling on the trigger.

“Boy...you sure got...bad a-aim.” Samandriel tried to laugh before he was thrown into a fit of coughing, blood spattering from his mouth onto Castiel’s shoes.  
“You’re su-supposed t-to...point it...at me…”  
Castiel began to cry and he slowly lowered the gun. He couldn’t bring himself to shoot himself and he felt like a coward for it.

“Tell...her s-s-something for m-me,” Samandriel began again, after taking a series of long and deep breaths. Castiel nodded attentively.  
Samandriel smiled again and closed his eyes. “I always thought...she was the...the prettiest.”  
Castiel tried to smile too. “I will.” he assured his friend.

Samandriel opened his eyes and stared right at Castiel, still smiling.  
“Do it…”  
“Wait...What did Naomi say?” Castiel stalled, not sure if he was really going to be able to kill his best friend.

Samandriel laughed quietly and mouthed, “My...tip to the...cops...went through.”  
Castiel didn’t know how to feel about the news.   
“Do it...please…” Samandriel’s breath quickened.

Castiel suddenly felt someone’s presence and turned around to see no one. He backed away and looked around the corner to see Lucifer standing in front of the door, staring right at him. Castiel’s heart nearly stopped beating for fear of the man. He slowly walked back over to Samandriel, knowing that there was truly no other alternative.

“Goodbye, Alfie.” Castiel whispered.

Castiel quickly aimed the gun at Samandriel’s head and pulled the trigger. The bang startled him and he looked at his friend and to his horror, he saw that he’d shot him in the wrong place. The bullet had gone through Samandriel’s chest and into his lung. 

Samandriel’s smile vanished and he gasped for air, finding none. He convulsed and blood gushed out of his mouth. He looked up at the startled Castiel and opened his mouth.  
“...Mi..ssed…” he coughed, falling over onto his side, his face going blue.

Castiel sobbed and ran up to Samandriel, realizing what had happened, and shot the boy in the head point-blank./

Jimmy woke with a start and sat up. Tears were in his eyes and he rubbed his face. He couldn’t stop the tears from falling.  
Jimmy shook from the vividness from his nightmarish memory and wasn’t able to compose himself until half an hour later, when he got dressed and made his way downstairs.

\--------

Dean walked by, tying his tie and slipping on his jacket.   
“Grab some grub and let’s go,” he mumbled around a few papers he was holding with his mouth.

“Where?” Jimmy asked, following Dean.  
“My brother’s house and then hopefully to the Lansing Correctional Facility.” Dean answered, dropping the papers into his now free hands. 

Jimmy froze. 

Dean looked at him confusedly. “You alright?”  
Jimmy took a breath. “Yes.” And he made his way to the kitchen where eggs and bacon were waiting for him. 

Lisa Winchester greeted him with a smile. Jimmy was startled by that and Ben began to bombard him with questions before Lisa told him to go wait for the schoolbus. She was either very good at pretending that having him in her house didn’t bother her or it really didn’t.

Jimmy ate silently and thoughtfully, the dream replaying over and over again in his head.   
It took him a moment to realize he was trembling.  
“You sure you’re okay, Jimmy?” Dean asked, walking into the kitchen and kissing Lisa good morning. Jimmy just nodded and continued to eat. There was someone in the Lansing Correctional Facility that he wanted so badly not to see.

\--------

Dean and Jimmy walked up to the apartment building. Dean pressed the buzzer and voice answered promptly, “Yeah?”  
“It’s me, I’m coming up.” Dean said and the two of them walked in.  
The door was open when they made it up the stairs--the elevator was broken--and they walked in to see a very tall man buttoning up a white dress shirt, the news droning quietly on the television.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean greeted, setting his briefcase down and walking into the kitchen to look for food. “Pie!” Jimmy heard Dean exclaimed in a muffled voice.  
Sam reproached him for taking his food.  
Jimmy recognized the tall man as Sam Winchester, the lawyer from the facility and consequently the brother of D.I. Dean Winchester. Two brothers in the law; Jimmy guessed it to be some sort of ‘family business.’ He closed the door and stood there, studying the whole apartment.

“So, you got what we need?” Dean called from the kitchen. Jimmy noticed Sam glancing around and then at him every once in a while.  
“I don’t steal for fun.” Jimmy said.  
Sam didn’t look like he believed him.   
“Uh, yeah...yeah I got us in,” Sam answered Dean as he tied his tie and slipped on his suit jacket. “On one condition,” he continued.

Jimmy tried not to think of the place they were talking about and he began to dread something that Dean might ask him to do later on once they actually arrived there.   
“What’s that?” Dean questioned, wiping the pie crumbs from his mouth.  
“Don’t get violent. You can’t let your emotions get in the way of interrogating this guy legally.” Sam warned. Jimmy wondered how many times this happened…

“No problem.” Dean replied.  
“Do you have a personal problem with the prisoner?” Jimmy asked.  
“Yeah, one of his grunts killed our mom when we were kids then our dad just a few years ago.”  
Jimmy thought hard.  
“Azazel.” he said quietly. Sam and Dean looked at him in confusion.  
“Yeah, that’s him. You know him?” Sam asked.  
“I did...He’s dead.”  
Sam and Dean remained quiet and looked at each other.

“Serves him right, the son of a bitch…” Dean mumbled and pushed past Jimmy out the apartment.

\--------

After about forty minutes of driving, less than quietly--Sam and Dean were constantly bickering--and they got out at the front of the facility.   
By now, Jimmy was having trouble hiding his fear of the place. 

“Okay, Jimmy. What’s wrong, and don’t say nothing ‘cause something is definitely bothering you.” Dean turned to him, looking annoyed.  
“I...don’t want to see him.” Jimmy said quietly.  
“Yeah, well neither do we,” Sam cut in, sounding unsympathetic.   
“You don’t have a choice.” Dean answered after smacking Sam on the shoulder for being unhelpful.  
Jimmy sighed quietly and followed the brothers in.

After they went to registration and their information was put through, they were shown to the room where they were to interrogate a certain prisoner. All three of them walked in and Jimmy, who came in last, froze in the doorway, staring with pure terror at the man who sat, chained to a desk.

“Hello, Castiel.” the man’s calm and soft voice greeted. Jimmy couldn’t respond and Sam had to pull him through the doorway to close the door.  
The man gazed at Jimmy with cold blue eyes and smiled slowly. The man’s name was Lucifer, at least that was the name that Jimmy knew him by. He had sad looking blue eyes and dusty blonde hair.

“Shut up.” Dean almost barked under his breath, noticing how much it was distressing Jimmy.   
“Go sit in the corner Jimmy.” he instructed. Jimmy did as he was told, aware that Lucifer was watching his every move like a snake.

“How can I help, Inspector?” Lucifer asked, turning away from Jimmy.  
“Name’s Nicholas Ackerman,” Sam started. Dean rolled his eyes impatiently. “Former boss of underworld crime...serial killer, kidnapper, rapist…”

“You’ve read my file,” Lucifer said with a mocking smile. “That’s so sweet, Sammy.”  
Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath before answering, “Don’t call me Sammy.”  
“Gimme the names of all your former cronies still left alive,” Dean said, sounding cocky. “I want a list of all the people you recruited.”   
Lucifer smiled but remained silent.

“C’mon I can make this a lot harder for you--”  
“The only way you can make this harder is if you kill me. Then where would your information be?” Lucifer interrupted in a bored tone. 

Jimmy stared at the floor, Lucifer’s cool voice making him shake. He noticed that Lucifer was being especially forward with the Winchesters and guessed that the villain had studied the family before ordering for their mother to be killed.  
“...Castiel, you can remember, can’t you?” Lucifer asked without looking over his shoulder.  
“Leave him outta this,” Dean commanded. 

“You were always...interesting. An Angel in the midst of Demons--”  
“Stop.” Jimmy said quietly but firmly. He stood and walked over to Dean. “He’ll talk to me.”  
Sam and Dean looked at each other. 

“Fine. You’ve got twenty minutes.” Dean said and pulled Sam out of the room with him.

Jimmy sat down in Dean’s previous seat and stared hard at Lucifer.  
“Tell me the...the names of all the kids you kidnapped.” Jimmy cursed inwardly at the shake in his voice.  
“You’re still just a kid, Castiel. A little Angel with blood on his wings...” Lucifer mused. “Alright. I’ll give you information if you answer every question I ask you.”  
Jimmy sighed and nodded. 

“Names of the kids and adults.”  
He gave all the names.  
“What’s your favorite color?” Lucifer asked. Jimmy furrowed his brow; he was being treated like a child.  
“...blue.” he answered slowly. “Who of the names are still alive?”  
“Ariss, I guess, Crowley, obviously...Naomi…” he listed off only a few more names but Jimmy stopped listening once he heard Naomi mentioned.

‘She’s still surviving...’ he thought.  
“Soooo, who’s in charge nowadays?” Lucifer asked.  
“Crowley and Ariss.” Jimmy responded quickly.

“All the possible warehouses and storage buildings.”  
The information was quickly and willingly given.  
“You know,” Lucifer began, leaning back in his seat and look at the ceiling uninterestedly. “You didn’t kill Samandriel quick enough.” 

Jimmy just stared.  
“After you ran out of the room, he suffocated to death, breathing just enough to keep him alive there for a few more hours.”   
“I...shot him in the...head…” Jimmy said slowly, a look of terror in his blue eyes as the nightmare replayed in his mind.

“Not in the right place,” Lucifer smiled and looked at him. “You made him suffer. If only you’d had more training with a gun...if only...how did it make you feel? You killed your best friend. You’re a murderer.” an unsettling look glazed over his eyes as he spoke and as Jimmy shook, tears began to fall from his eyes. He stood abruptly and breathed quickly. 

“I don’t believe you.” Jimmy practically whispered. “He died when I shot him…”  
“You can keep telling yourself that but it won’t make it true,” Lucifer said in a very calm voice. “I watched the life ebb out of him. I bet his decaying body is still there--”

Jimmy slammed his hands down on the table and Lucifer didn’t flinch.  
Tears were falling freely now and he gave the prisoner a dark glare before quickly getting out of the room.

“Cas what are you--hey!” Dean exclaimed as Jimmy shoved him aside and walked angrily down the hall.  
“I have the information. I’ll be in your car.” he called over his shoulder in a husky tone.  
Dean turned to Sam and said, “Take care of this, will ya? I gotta go after ol’ tight ass.” and he ran down the hall after the very distraught thief.


	7. Goin' In!

“What the hell was that all about?” Dean asked confusedly as he followed Jimmy out the building.  
“I got the information.” Jimmy replied coldly.   
Dean forcefully pulled him back by the shoulder.  
“Sit down,” he gestured towards a bench in the corner. “and tell me what’s going on with you.”  
Jimmy rolled his eyes, wiping the stray tears away quickly.

“It shouldn’t matter to you.”  
“Working with you is much harder with this crap in the way, so get talking.” Dean said curtly.  
Jimmy stalked over to the bench and sat down.

“Lucifer…” he was having trouble finding words.  
“When I was twelve, Lucifer and Crowley took my family from me. When I and the other children they took were being assessed for placement, it was very clearly demonstrated that failure was almost always inexcusable,”  
“What, like they’d be shot in front of everyone?” Dean questioned, looking baffled.  
“Sometimes. The mode of execution varied. Some would be shot, some tortured, and others…” Jimmy’s brow furrowed and he gazed off distantly, unwillingly remembering. “...raped to death. And every execution was completed in front of us.”  
He turned and looked at Dean darkly.

“So, forgive me if I seem a little emotional about that son of a bitch.”

Dean took a deep breath. “Well,” he said but he didn’t know what to say.  
“Uh…” he tried again after a moment. “Woah…”

Jimmy rested his elbows on his knees and hunched forward to rest his head on his hands. All that had disturbed him, all that was horrifying to him, filled his mind in that moment, and he began to breathe shallowly, his chest began to tighten, and a terrible heaviness set in his stomach; anxiety crawled on his skin.

But then, he thought of Meg, her smile, her glowing face; the first time the met; and he felt his anxiety begin to ebb away slowly.  
‘Please be safe...’ he thought.

He supposed that seeing a psychiatrist would be a beneficial investment for his own sanity but circumstances, money--though he could have stolen what he needed--and his criminal life held him back for years. He’d managed well enough on his own so far, anyhow.

“Your father,” Jimmy suddenly spoke. “Was a good man. He tried to take me out of Lucifer and Crowley’s hands.”  
Dean’s face grew stern.   
“Thanks.” he mumbled.  
“So,” Dean stood. “Where are we headed?”

\--------

As soon as Sam had finished up and joined the other two in the car, they started off for their first destination.

The first location was about 19 miles from the correctional facility near a town called Tonganoxie. There was an abandoned warehouse where previously Crowley had set up an operation. But after a few hours of watching closely, the three men determined that even if it had been recently in use, it wasn’t being used now.  
After Jimmy insisted on going in and checking himself, and he did, they left for the next destination.

The next possible location was about 88 miles away. Dean stopped by Sam’s apartment so that the lawyer could gather a few of his things, and then stopped at his own house to inform Lisa and Ben that he’d be away for a while on this case--also, he decided to switch cars and leave in his sleek black hardtop Impala. After Dean gathered his stuff, they left for the second warehouse.

\--------

“Give me information about Crowley.” Dean said as he watched the road with concentration.  
Jimmy fidgeted in the back-seat and gazed out the window like a child.  
“His real name is Fergus Mcleod. Forty-six years old, 5 feet 9 inches tall. He is the world head of black market sales and now the King of underworld crime.” Jimmy thought hard, trying to determine whether he’d left anything out.

“Any family left alive? Employees who’re ready to rat him out?” Sam questioned.  
“No. His family’s dead and his and Lucifer’s former Employees, mainly children, have been indefinitely retired. If you were thinking of trying to blackmail Crowley, don't bother. That man has no soul."

Sam and Dean remained silent for a while. Jimmy quietly pulled out his phone and pulled up his text messages.  
“Who’re you texting?” Dean questioned. Jimmy looked up abruptly, having been yanked from his concentration on the frustrating little contraption; sure he was used to technology, and plenty of it, but he’d never had a cell phone long enough for him to explore its inner workings thoroughly.  
“A...friend.” he answered, looking back down at the phone, waiting for it to be reprimanded.  
“Dude, I thought you said you don’t have friends?” Dean retorted.  
“I lied. It’s not like I’m an Angel or something,” Jimmy said, shrugging. “He’s a doctor who works for Crowley and also gives me information when he can.” He took a deep breath.  
“I do have friends, detective, and he’s very useful.” Jimmy almost spat.  
“Woah, woah, calm down,” Sam turned to look at the angry thief.

“Info about him first, then you’ll text him.” Dean said resolutely.   
Jimmy sighed. “Code name, Balthazar, real name, Harold Holt, age is fifty-three. No outside connections that I know of. I’m asking him about Meg.” he answered hurriedly.

“If he has no outside connections, where does he get his information?” Dean prodded.  
“His duties are to tend to Crowley’s allies and employees when they need it. He asks nicely. People talk when they’re comfortable.” Jimmy sassed.

“Who’s Meg?” Sam asked quietly. “That...woman from the madhouse?”  
“His fiance,” Dean answered in an equally hushed tone.  
“Hey, on second thought, if you need to talk to him, call him and put him on speaker.” he directed his attention to the thief once again.

“Fine.” Jimmy said and dialed the number; he’d memorized by then.  
He activated speaker phone and listened to the dial tone a few times before the phone was answered.  
“What the fuck did you do now?” Balthazar’s voice asked, loud and clear.  
“Why? What’s happening?” Jimmy asked, furrowing his brow.

“You’re all over the news! It says that Detective Inspector Dean Winchester got you--”  
“Well, he did and he’s listening right now--”  
“What the bloody hell did you call me for?” he interrupted Jimmy.  
“I just need to know what’s happened to Meg.”

The speaker was silent for a moment.  
“They took her,” Balthazar said.  
“Where?” Jimmy questioned worriedly.   
“How should I fucking know?” the doctor spat. “I haven’t heard anything but if I do, I’ll tell you,” he took a deep breath. “Hang in there, lad.”  
The call ended.  
“Well, he sounds like a great guy,” Dean commented.  
Jimmy slipped the phone back in his pocket and stared out the window, worrying tremendously.

\--------

Crowley didn’t appear to be at the other warehouse, or the next, and the sun had long since retired its shine.  
They pulled up at a motel, paid for a room, and lugged the necessities to the room.  
There were, however, only two beds.  
“I’ll sleep on the floor.” Jimmy said and pulled off his trench coat.  
“Fine.” Dean said after a moment and almost stumbled to his bed, his eyelids heavy with a want to sleep.

Jimmy slumped down on to the floor next to a radon pipe and lied down, using his coat as a blanket.

Just as he close his eyes, Dean walked over and handcuffed his hands to the radon pipe.  
Jimmy squinted at him with confusion.  
“Just a precaution.”   
Dean said and retired for the night.

Jimmy was used to handcuffs, having had experience with them throughout his childhood, but he still found them abhorable and uncomfortable.  
He lay awake, silently thinking for hours.  
He worried for Meg immensely and thought about running off to find her on his own; but then he determined that his best bet was to continue working with the detective and the lawyer; it was better to have two somewhat supporting aspects of the law than none at all.

Jimmy sent up a silent, and somewhat desperately unsure, prayer for Meg’s safety.  
A few moments later, Jimmy’s phone began to buzz, making a loud noise against the floor in the pocket of Jimmy’s trench coat.

The thief lifted a leg and in turn lifted the pocket with the phone off the ground to diminish the sound.  
Quickly, he bit onto his coat and jerked it over his face. He felt around with his nose and tongue for the precautionary needle he kept in there. After a moment of this hidden array of comical actions, the tip of the needle pricked his tongue and he managed to pull the tool out with his teeth and expertly spit it close to the pipe; he immediately regretted this decision when he realized that he could no longer see the needle.

He slid his cuffed hands down the plastic pipe and as soon as the phone began buzzing again, he carefully angled the pocket so that the muffled light from the phone could allow his fingers to find the needle.

Swiftly, Jimmy found the needle, picked it up, and almost effortlessly unlocked the cuffs, carefully and quietly undoing them, so as to not alert the sleeping brothers.  
Once free, Jimmy pulled out his phone and snuck stealthily towards Dean’s belongings, lifting a credit card from his wallet.

Jimmy left the room, keeping the door operable with the credit card.  
Walking down the hall, he looked in the contents of his phone and saw that he had two missed calls from Balthazar’s number.  
Finding a solitary corner at the end of the red carpeted hall, he slumped down against the wall and called the number back, holding his legs against his chest with his other arm.

“Why the bloody hell wouldn’t you pick up?” Balthazar’s voice came through loudly.  
“I was handcuffed to a radon pipe.” Jimmy replied quietly, looking around warily.  
“Is the detective listening, you kinky bastard?”  
“No he’s sleeping. I don’t have much time.” Jimmy answered, rolling his eyes.  
“Why are you talking so quietly?” the doctor questioned.   
“I’m in the hallway of a motel.” Jimmy answered.  
“What the hell for? Can’t you have scurried up a rooftop or something?”  
“...My leg still hurts and I’m tired.” Jimmy answered sheepishly.  
“Oh that’s too fucking bad for you, you little twit.” Balthazar retorted.

“Ariss came in looking like a trainwreck today. He had been transporting your love to the warehouse in Nashville and evidently she’d gotten hold of a knife and dealt a nasty bit of self-defense on the bloke--don’t worry she’s still alive; Bosses orders.” Balthazar stated. “The warehouse is heavily guarded and they’ve sent Alistair up, so you’d better hurry.”

Hearing the familiar name stirred utter terror for Meg within Jimmy.

“I will, thank you.” he managed to mutter.  
“I’ll keep Ariss out of the way, Cassie. Cheerio--”  
“What the fuck did you do to me?” Ariss’ shrill tone cut through Balthazar’s words.  
“Sit down you bloody fuck,” Balthazar snapped back.

A gun went off and someone let out a muffled curse and then the call was cut.  
Jimmy’s heart was thudding hard in his chest and his anxiety level rose tremendously. He worried for the life of his friend and his wife-to-be. What to do?

Jimmy promised himself to check on Balthazar as soon as he was able.  
Castiel shoved the phone into his pocket and ran swiftly down the hall, barging into the motel room loudly and throwing the credit card at Dean as he woke, startled.

Jimmy flipped on the light.  
“Dean, Sam, wake up.” he demanded adamantly of them.  
“What’s going on?” Sam almost snorted as he woke drowsily. “And how’d you get out of the cuffs?”  
“A needle.” Jimmy answered honestly. Sam laughed. “I know where Crowley has taken Meg.”

\--------

It was four in the morning when they finally set off and Jimmy was too anxious to feel as exhausted as his body tried to tell him he was.  
The Impala roared down the road and Jimmy struggled with his impatience.

“What info you got on this Alistair guy?” Dean asked in a yawn, still sounding a little sleepy.  
“He’s an escaped convict, an impulsive and slow murderer. He was recruited four years ago. Real name, Richard Rout, and his age is thirty...six.” the words spilled off Jimmy’s tongue swiftly.

“What’s his profess--hey, hey, who’re you contacting?” Dean interrupted himself, seeing Jimmy pull out his phone.  
“Balthazar,” Jimmy answered, typing in the number.  
“Why? And what’s Alistair’s profession?”  
“There’s a good chance that Balthazar is dead,” Jimmy answered. “And Alistair is the head of the torture department.”

“Department?” Sam repeated. “Crowley runs departments?”  
“So to speak,” Jimmy rolled his eyes; he didn’t have time for this.  
“Crowley is a businessman,” Jimmy explained. “And Nicholas Ackerman is the Devil.” he added resentfully.  
On speakerphone, which Jimmy had turned on upon remembering Dean’s rule, the dial tone droned on and Jimmy hung up; all hope for the doctor’s livelihood was dimming.

“I don’t doubt it.” Dean mumbled under his breath.  
The rest of the drive took them hard into the late morning, when Sam and Dean swapped seats, and they arrived near the warehouse at about 1:30pm.

Jimmy practically fell out of the car when they stopped a few blocks away. There were guards everywhere, out on almost crumbling terraces, on the browning grass, and on the cracked pavements all around. Most of the guards were children and young teens big enough to hold and fire a weapon, much to Jimmy’s dismay.

Sam and Dean got out of the car and followed Jimmy as he ventured towards the building to get a better view of the surroundings. Not much of green covered the ground and the building looked rickety and almost to the point of crumbling; it still had, for the most part, a roof and dirt-blacked windows.

“Detective,” Jimmy turned towards Dean. “It looks like all or most of the guard is composed of children. No matter what they do, do not kill them.”  
“What?!” Sam exclaimed in a whisper.  
“What makes you think I’d kill a child?” Dean asked, sounding indignant and offended.

“...You’re not the first cop I’ve had to work with.” Jimmy replied vaguely. “Give me your word.”  
“I don’t see why--”  
“Because their fear of facing Crowley in failure is greater than the fear of taking another life.” Jimmy interrupted. “They will not hesitate to kill you but there is no need to kill them.”

“Fine, I promise, Cas. Don’t worry.” Dean rose his hands in defeat.  
“And you,” Jimmy turned towards Sam.  
“Oh, C’mon Cas, he can’t shoot worth anything.” Dean laughed.

“I promise too, and yeah Dean, I can.” sam flashed his older brother his best bitch-face.  
“So, how do we get in?” Dean asked.  
“I...don’t know.” Jimmy replied after a moment of gazing towards the warehouse.

Just then, his phone buzzed. Quickly he pulled it out and answered it.  
“Hello?”  
“Sorry for the worry, Cassie,” Balthazar’s voice struck Jimmy’s ear. He smiled with relief.   
“What happened?”

“Well, I nearly got my head blown off by Ariss and so I did the world a favor and “accidentally” slipped him off into a coma.”  
Jimmy chuckled quietly.

“Anyways, off you pop. I’ve got blueprints to send you, so hang up already.” the call ended.  
Shortly after, 16 text messages announced their arrival on Jimmy’s phone.  
“What’s that?” Sam asked.  
“Blueprints. Give me a second.” Jimmy said, studying every page for about a minute each. He started walking to the car, still studying the blueprints.  
“I slipped two tranquilizer guns and a few hundred rounds in the trunk of your car. You’ll need them.”

Dean rolled his eyes and followed Jimmy to the car, looking where he instructed; Sam looked amusedly at Jimmy before following. Taking the guns and ammo, Dean revealed a secret compartment that held many more guns and knives, and even swords, than one or two men would ever need.

“Woah, what’s all this for?” Sam asked.  
“It’s a precaution,” Dean said.  
“...For what?” Jimmy questioned, having finished memorizing the blueprints.  
“...Uh...Everything I guess?” Dean gave an ammunition belt to Sam and Jimmy. The brothers haltered their guns and Jimmy assured them that he would only need the ammo by themselves; when they displayed their doubt at his reassurance, he found a slingshot and took it with him. The three of them made their way back to their previous spot and Jimmy pulled out his phone to scan the last page again.  
“C’mon, Cas, we haven’t got all day!” Dean hissed, carefully walking up behind the thief.

Jimmy shoved the phone in his pocket.  
“On the southwest side, there’s a loose black tile. Pull it up and make your way from the underground passage. Going up through there, you’ll need to go up the levels by stair, located in the fourth room on the left on each floor. Don’t use the elevators: once they find out you’re in one, they’ll drop it.” Jimmy explained quickly. “You’ll find Crowley most likely on the top floor. I’m going after Meg. Call in some officers a couple of blocks away. We’re going to need them to receive the children we tranquilize or can convince to escape.”

Dean nodded and pulled out his iphone and called the nearest police station, giving them strict instructions to not interfere. After the call ended, Jimmy turned to the brothers and said, “Don’t die.”  
Jimmy darted off, leaving Sam and Dean to follow the instructions.  
Jimmy stealthily crept up behind a girl that looked only twelve years old who had two pistols holstered at her sides, making sure to keep hidden behind a small hedge behind her. Taking out a tranquilizer dart and holding it at the ready, he inched closer.

"Don't turn around," he instructed, his voice a low rumble.  
The girl didn't move an inch.   
Jimmy guessed she was assessing whether or not to whip around and shoot him.  
"What do you want?" She questioned, no trace of fear in her voice; Jimmy could almost hear...annoyance?  
"My name is Castiel."  
Immediately after hearing his name, the girl tensed up and in a shaky voice whispered, "Please...don't...don't kill me!"  
"I'm not going to kill you," Jimmy reassured the girl almost in shock of what his reputation had become to the new recruits. Crowley had made him out to be a monster. But then again...was he wrong?  
"I'm going to need your assistance," he began, lowering the dart slightly.  
"What's your name?"  
She didn't answer for a moment, almost as if she thought the man behind her could kill her with only a name.  
"...Ansiel."

"Okay, Ansiel, I need you to get all the children out of here and go down the block to the police. As soon as you get to them, put down your weapons and go with them--they will not harm you. They'll get you away from Crowley."   
The last part of Jimmy's explanation caused Ansiel to stiffen.

“You have to trust me,” Jimmy tried to reassure her. “What’s worse than Crowley?”  
“...Nothing.” she replied and seemed to relax.

“I’ll wave the red flag and get everyone I can out.” Ansiel said with a new air of determination in her voice.  
“Thank you, Ansiel.” Jimmy said sincerely. “You’re going to be alright. Now, when I say go, you run and gather as many children as you can.” he looked to see one of the adults turn around and the others make their rounds of the building, walking out of sight.

Taking out a dart and his slingshot, he sent it flying and into the back of the neck of the only adult that could be seen.  
His body fell to the ground and Jimmy hissed, “Go!”

Ansiel dashed forward towards the other kids and exchanged a few quick words with them. Jimmy kept his eyes out for any other threats and when he looked back towards the kids, they were all waving little red flags as high as they could before running in the direction they had be instructed to.

Memories of the red flag blazed through Jimmy’s mind as he darted forward as children came spilling out of the building, unknowingly on the run from Crowley.

Ansiel covered them and shot the adults that tried to thwart their escape. Every shot made Jimmy’s heart sink yet he pushed on, giving Ansiel a reassuring glance before running into the building.

Jimmy ran towards the elevator inside, stabbing hostiles with tranquilizer darts and moving on.  
While he waited for the elevator to open, he looked down the hall and out the open door to see Ansiel, blood spattered on her face. She looked at him and waved a weak “all is well.”

Jimmy smiled.  
A shot rang loudly and suddenly.

Ansiel’s face grew pale and pained. She slumped to the ground, dropping her gun, eyes wide in shock.  
Jimmy swiftly darted down the hall, over the people he’d knocked out, and out the door, leaping on the man who’d shot the girl.  
With his hands squeezing the man’s throat, the man flailed beneath him, having dropped his gun in surprise, until he had lost consciousness.  
Jimmy then scrambled over to Ansiel to check her wound. She had been shot in the center of her chest but she was still breathing.

“Ansiel!”  
She blinked slowly and looked at him, her face contorted with pain and blood spilling out of her mouth.

Then, slowly, she choked, and moved no more.


End file.
